Her Bodyguard (4 page)

“Because you were promoting your business. When was the last time you did something just for fun?”

Mari had no answer.

Jenny’s voice gentled. “Honey, to be frank, you’ve let the situation with Alexander affect your relationship with friends and family. That’s part of the reason your father is so concerned about you right now.”

“There’s no need, Mama. Honestly. If Papa just has to worry, he should spend his energies fretting about my sisters. It’s been almost two years since Casey died, and Emma still visits his grave every day. And Kat, I fear she’s going to get herself in trouble with that actor. I don’t trust him.”

“Neither does your father. He worries plenty about both Emma and Katrina, believe me. He worries about all his children. He told me that when it comes to his babies, his neck has been niggling of late.”

Mari frowned. She didn’t like hearing that. If the niggle at the back of Trace McBride’s neck told him he had reason to worry about his children, then she wouldn’t argue. Her father was good at sensing trouble. Mari had long believed she’d inherited her intuition from him.

The challenging thing about one of her father’s “neck niggles” was that it covered a lot of ground. He might know trouble was coming, but that trouble could be anything from physical safety to emotional pain to something as simple as one of the boys catching heck from the sheriff for one of their endless pranks.

Mari made a note to keep a closer eye on her siblings, then said, “He goes too far, Mama. I’m an adult. He needs to treat me like one.”

“I know, honey. I’ll talk to him. But you need to accept that he’ll never stop worrying about you, no matter how old you get. However, there are things you can do that will ease his mind to an extent and, hopefully, make his visits to Indulgences fewer and farther between.”

“Tell me, please. I’ll do anything I can.”

“First, start coming home at night before dark. Speak up at the supper table, share your day.”

“I already do that.”

“Do it more often. And don’t disappear into your room after we eat. That behavior worries your father, too. Stay downstairs and visit with him. Or play tag or ball with your brothers. Nothing relaxes your father like watching his children play in the yard after supper.”

“That I can do.” Mari might be a grown woman with a business of her own, but she hoped she’d never be too old to play. “In fact, I’ll organize a rousing game of blindman’s bluff this evening. I’ll stop by Uncle Tye’s house and invite the cousins.”

“No, not this evening. Tonight we’re all attending the ball at the Texas Spring Palace. I want you to join us, Maribeth.”

Mali’s stomach sank. Not that. Tonight’s ball was the premier social event of the spring in Fort Worth. Alex was bound to be there.

“No, Mama. Not a ball. I’m not up to that. I’ll stay home with Emma.”

Jenny smiled and her eyes gleamed with pleasure. “Emma plans to attend the ball.”

“What?” Mari said, shocked.

“She’s even promised to dance if asked. She’s wearing the yellow dress I made for her.”

“That’s wonderful!” Gladness and a full measure of hope filled Mari’s heart at that bit of news.
Oh, Emma
. Maybe she was finally beginning to heal from her devastating loss.

Casey’s death from pneumonia three months after his and Emma’s wedding had almost destroyed Mari’s elder sister. The two had grown up together, been friends before becoming lovers. They’d planned and dreamed and no sooner embarked on their blissful life together at Casey’s ranch south of town than a summer cold turned ugly and took it all away. Emma’s light had gone dark that day and remained so ever since.

Remembering the day that Casey died, Mari absently stroked a finger over the line that crossed her palm, the Bad Luck Love Line she didn’t believe in, but of which, nevertheless, she was always conscious. “Did she finally cry, Mama?”

Jenny shook her head. “Not that I’m aware. Her eyes weren’t red or puffy when she came to me this morning and asked to see the dress. She held it up against herself, looked into the mirror and said she was coming to the ball. No explanation. No excuse. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t about to press the issue.”

“No,” Mari agreed. “No sense borrowing trouble.”

Jenny picked up the window curtain and began threading it back onto the rod. “I’m hopeful this ball tonight will signal a new beginning for this family,” she said. “I want to believe that the bad times are behind us and only good times he ahead.”

Mari nodded. “There’s nothing else I’d like more.”

Jenny fixed the curtain rod to its brackets, then stepped back. The two women took a moment to admire her handiwork. Then Jenny asked again, “So you’ll join us at the Texas Spring Palace tonight, Mari?”

Mari sighed. “Yes. I’ll be there for Emma.”

And if she happened to run into the man who had jilted her at the altar, well, she’d act as friendly as a pup in a box.

Then, she’d sic her brothers on the scalawag and let Billy, Tommy and Bobby conduct a little McBride Monster mischief.
I wonder if I have enough time to whip up a special batch of chocolates? Ones made with prunes, perhaps?

CHAPTER TWO

LUKE EYED THE TURNIP-SHAPED cupolas and massive center dome of the Texas Spring Palace and wondered what the architect had been drinking when he designed the place. Intended to rival the Sioux City Corn Palace and the Toronto Ice Palace, the purpose of the regional immigration and agricultural fair was to attract settlers and investors to Texas. In its second season, the project appeared to be a rousing success, serving as an educational, cultural and entertainment center for visitors from across the country.

Nevertheless, Luke thought the Oriental-style building looked like something out of a fantasy world, more suited to the pages of a novel than the rolling Texas prairie.

As he entered the huge exhibit hall, Luke overheard a ticket taker claim that almost seven thousand people had crowded inside this evening. That could be a problem, he thought. With that many folks milling around the building, he might have a difficult time locating his contact.

And he truly did want to turn over the stolen diamond-and-ruby necklace hidden in his pocket.

He wandered through the agricultural hall pretending interest in the neatly classified samples of grains, grasses, fruits, vegetables and minerals produced within the state while he developed his plan of action. He figured the likeliest time to spy his quarry would be during the Elgin Watch Band’s performance. Besides, Luke wouldn’t mind dancing a waltz or two with a Fort Worth lovely. It’d be a nice change from the uncivilized company he’d been keeping the past few weeks.

Having toured the length of the hall, Luke moseyed on toward the art exhibit, where work either by Texas artists or depicting an aspect of life in the Lone Star State was on display. In this gallery, Luke didn’t have to feign interest. His stepfather had taught him to appreciate art, and during Luke’s travels, he always made it a point to visit local museums and galleries whenever time allowed. The quality of the paintings and sculptures on display here at the Texas Spring Palace impressed him. The bronze nude by Monique Day could hold its own with anything he’d seen in the Louvre.

“Luke Garrett? Is that really you?”

Luke glanced away from a moody watercolor of Galveston Bay to see Wilhemina Peters, society columnist for the Fort Worth
Daily Democrat
, bearing down on him. She wore a candlelight silk shawl draped over a bronze-colored evening gown and brought to mind an image of a barquentine at full sail.

Luke stifled a sigh. Up until now, he’d enjoyed his evening at the agriculture and immigration fair. Leave it to Wilhemina Peters to destroy his peace.

Halting in front of him, she declared, “It is you.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Peters. Are you enjoying the gala?”

“Never mind the gala. What are you doing out of jail?”

Luke flashed a shark’s smile, then drawled, “I’ve been paroled.”

“Paroled!”

“Yep. For good behavior.” With a wicked wink, he added, “The warden’s daughter testified on my behalf.”

Mrs. Peters gasped and clutched at her voluminous bosom.

“For goodness’ sake, Wilhemina, settle down.” Mr. Peters walked up beside his wife and extended his hand toward Luke. “I heard you were here tonight, Garrett. Glad to know your conviction was overturned in time for you to attend the exposition. The Texas Spring Palace’s second season has been a rousing success so far, and it wouldn’t have happened without your substantial subscription.”

Luke acknowledged the chairman of the Spring Palace committee with a nod. “Glad to have been of help.”

Wilhemina sniffed. “It’s been suggested that you considered your ten-thousand-dollar subscription to be simply good business. An influx of tourists to the city means more trains to rob, more horses to steal, more people to fleece in your Hell’s Half Acre’s saloons and brothels.”

“Wilhemina, hush now,” scolded her husband. “Mr. Garrett is completely innocent of any involvement in the slight increase in the city’s crime rate since the exposition opened.”

“That’s right.” Luke nodded solemnly. “I’ve been in jail.”

While Wilhemina gasped, Mr. Peters continued, “The Spring Palace is the best thing that’s happened to Fort Worth since electric lights, and Mr. Garrett is a big part of its success. I suggest you bury your animosity and—”

“Give the devil his due?” she interrupted, her smile false, her eyes narrowed and angry. “Very well.” Before Luke or her husband realized her intentions, Wilhemina Peters took a step closer to him, drew back her hand and slapped him. “That’s for Miss Whitaker.”

The crowd around them gasped. Luke didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash. Miss Whitaker? Did he know a Miss Whitaker?

Wilhemina Peters wasn’t done. “What happened to you, Luke Garrett? I know who your people are. Miss Whitaker is my goddaughter, so I made it a point to find out. You were born to be a hero. Your grandfather died at the Alamo. Your great-uncle was killed in the Goliad Massacre. Your father defended Galveston against the Yankees, and your mother foiled a Comanche’s attempt to steal her favorite horse. With that sort of honor and courage in your blood, how did you end up a low-down no-good—” she screeched the final word “—outlaw?”

Mr. Peterson’s complexion bleached to a pasty white, and his focus slid down toward Luke’s right hand as if expecting to see a gun.

Luke simply turned toward Mr. Peterson and pointedly arched a brow. That’s all it took. Peterson placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and forcibly propelled her away through the throng of people who’d gathered to observe the scandalous exchange. With studied calm, Luke returned his attention toward the painting of Galveston Bay.

It truly was quite good. He’d been favorably impressed by all of the exhibits on display at the Spring Palace, not just the art. In his opinion the organizers had achieved their purpose of advertising the resources and opportunities to be found in the Lone Star State. He was glad to have contributed to the project.

After all, a man had to do something with his ill-gotten gains.

The buzz of conversation behind him slowly grew louder and took on a mean tone as word of Wilhemina Peters’s charges against him spread. Behind him, he heard a shrill feminine voice declare, “The nerve of the man, trying to mingle with polite society!”

“I think he should be shown the door,” a man said.

A woman clucked her tongue. “I know this is a public event, but I don’t feel safe. My daughters are here. What if he notices them?”

A breathy young woman’s voice said, “He’s so handsome. I wish he’d notice me.”

“Elizabeth!” The woman gasped. “Alfred? Alfred! Do something.”

Wonderful. Thank you, Wilhemina
. As Alfred quietly argued with his wife about the advisability of tangling with a reputed gunslinger, Luke moved to the next painting in the gallery, a vibrant oil entitled
West Texas Sunset
He’d seen that crimson-and-gold sky before. Worked cotton fields beneath it, at a place not far from here, in fact. The picture made him yearn for simpler times, back to the days before deceit had become the driving force in his life.

“All right, Garrett.” Ol’Alfred’s voice trembled just a little as he gathered his questionable courage and stepped forward. He grabbed Luke’s arm. “It’s best you move along.”

“I suggest you remove your hand from my person,” Luke said in a cold, dead tone.

“I know some townspeople are willing to put up with the likes of you because you spread your money around Fort Worth, but the fact remains you don’t belong in polite compan—”

“Mr. Garrett! I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long. Thank you for your patience.” A lovely young woman with honey hair and shining green eyes swept up beside him and slipped her hand around his arm. “The Elgin Watch Band has begun to play. Shall we join the dancers now?”

Luke hesitated but a second. “I’d be honored.”

As he led her out of the art exhibit toward the ballroom, the whispers and murmurs and scandalized exclamations escalated to a near roar. At that point, he heard Wilhemina Peters exclaim, “Oh my heavens! Look at that. I knew it. I knew those Menaces would eventually come to no good. I wonder if Trace McBride knows his daughter has taken up with an outlaw?”

Trace McBride’s daughter? Another one? Luke studied her features, recognized the similarities between the two young women and allowed himself the slightest of winces. Seven thousand people at this shindig, and he runs across another McBride Menace? This night was just getting better and better.

The rumbles faded behind them as he led her into the crush occupying the dance floor and joined in a waltz. “Miss McBride, I presume?”

“Kat McBride.” She smiled sheepishly. “I was standing on the other side of the partition waiting for my beau to join me, and I heard the entire thing. I’m sorry, Mr. Garrett. It was presumptuous of me to interrupt that way, I know, but I was curious. I heard about your visit to my sister Mari’s chocolate shop today, and of course, I’m well acquainted with both Mrs. Peterson and Idalou Whitaker. That harpy gossip columnist has been the bane of my existence for years, and as far as Idalou Whitaker goes, well, I know you’re not the father of her baby.”